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Pruning is a valuable thing. Do you need something to get rid of? Prune it. Prune the living heck out of it. Prune your prunes, prune your mother, prune your father. Prune until nothing is left. Rid of everything unnecessary in your life and hope that out of all the things you pruned, you pruned the right ones otherwise you’d just become a tree stump without the hold of its branches.
By Susan Rother URL on 02.22.2014
the woman spent all of her time pruning. if she ever got a spare minute she pruned. i often asked her why, but she never granted me with a valid answer. it was always one word replies like because or, well… or a hmm that seemingly went on forever.
By Harriett on 02.22.2014
Thoughts cut away with ragged instruments–jagged edges, unclean blades–gone, but the remaining wounds are worse.
By C on 02.22.2014
Some days he’d catch her in the back of the property, whistling as she pruned the shrubbery. And every time, mouth inexplicably dry, all he could do was watch.
By WearyWater URL on 02.22.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.